


Wandering Star

by palimpsestus



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Gen, Time Travel, precursors did it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:27:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28720419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palimpsestus/pseuds/palimpsestus
Summary: In the years to come, Kaidan would spend long nights trying to piece together the sensation of falling through time. But when it happened, it almost didn't occur to him that it was strange.____In which the Crucible's action is to hurl one person back through time, and Kaidan Alenko finds himself on Eden Prime, the only one who remembers what the next three years will bring. And yes I am writing this because I'm that excited about the remaster.
Relationships: Kaidan Alenko/Female Shepard
Comments: 14
Kudos: 14





	1. Displaced

Kaidan spent long nights, in the years to come, piecing together the sensation of falling through time.

In one moment, Shepard’s gauntleted hand was on his cheek, her lips tightly pressed together, and tears mixing with blood on her cheeks. And then his hand was on her helmet, holding it still. She was standing in the ruins of London in her flimsy Phantom-esque armour, and he was standing on Eden Prime, watching the flash of green radiate from the Prothean beacon. Shepard was falling to the ground before the Conduit, and falling to the ground before the beacon, and he was only just a heartbeat behind her . . .  
But when it happened, it almost didn’t occur to him that it was strange.

Kaidan raced across the ground to Shepard, knowing he’d shaken someone off, but not sure who. He reached the prone body and fell to his knees, his omnitool flickering as he ran medical diagnostics. That was the first thing that snagged at his mind, a stray thread of thought, his omnitool was running much too slowly, and damn it he needed to know how bad the damage was.

“Is she okay?”

“She’ll be fine, call the _Normandy_ ,” he snapped.

It wasn’t even the voice that tipped him off. It wasn’t the planet’s angry red sky or the gravity, or the lack of a team around him.

It was her. Her body was reacting to the Prothean device violently, near shutting down, as though none of her implants were attempting to regulate what was happening inside of her. As though there were no Cerberus implants at all.

And then, as something clattered at the edge of his senses, he reached for his gun. It was a standard Alliance issued pistol. His retrofitted rifle was nowhere to be seen.

For the moment, Shepard was as stable as he could make her, and he stood slowly, scanning the horizon. The crates and the umber sky were familiar, but they were not London. The marine standing in custom armour was familiar too, so familiar he’d overlooked her, and now when he stared, Ashley Williams stared back with wide, frightened eyes.

And the _Normandy_ , who parted the clouds as she descended to pick them up, was a _Normandy_ he had not seen in three years.

He lifted his omnitool, and blinked at the date, the 24th of March . . . 2183.


	2. Turmoil

“What happened, Alenko?” Anderson asked. The Admiral – rather, _Captain_ \- stood at the lockers while Kaidan unclipped his helmet. Anderson had his arms crossed across his uniform jacket. He looked much, much younger than when Kaidan had seen him last.

“I’m . . .”

_I’m not sure, sir. The Prothean device seems to have emitted a type of radiation, and Commander Shepard received a dose._

Three years, over three years, and the words sprang to his lips, exactly as he had said them before.

“I’m not sure, sir,” he said, and it was as though he was being swept along by a current, and the rest of his explanation followed.

He might have said, _Sir, I’ve been here before. This is the past. I need to speak to Shepard the moment she’s awake, she might know too. God we might have a chance, sir, a real chance!_

But even thinking about it made his jaw clench. Maybe if he hadn’t spent a lifetime fending off questions about his supposed telepathic powers, or maybe it was just the knowledge that if he spoke now, he wouldn’t see Shepard wake up.

“Get yourself cleaned up,” Anderson said, clasping a hand on his shoulder, and he marched toward the bridge.

Kaidan set his helmet in his locker, and did as he was told.

  


In the _Normandy_ SR-1’s tiny head, he stripped his armour and undersuit off, kicking them to the floor in his haste. The figure in the mirror ran his fingers over his ribs, then pulled the skin taut where it rose up over his chest. He pushed hair to the side, but could see no sign of the scar on his chest where a mech had exploded too close during his days out in the Terminus. The scar was gone. He clasped his ribs on the right side and there was no hint of pain from landing hard on Thessia’s earth. The back of his skull bore no evidence of his encounter on Mars. He drew his hand up into his hair. No grey there either. At least, not as much . . .

Kaidan had to conclude his body could provide no evidence of what had happened to him. Only his memories. And if he could not remember precisely how he came to be on Eden Prime . . . they had been in London, Shepard’s face had been pale and flecked with blood . . . would the rest of his memories fade?

  


He showered faster than he’d ever managed in his life, and dressed, heading back into the _Normandy_.

Talitha Draven gave him a smile as she walked towards the CIC. He shivered. It was like standing among ghosts. He looped the SR-1 once, and found it eerily familiar, and unfalteringly real. There was no give to the bulkheads, and painful jolts of static from the consoles. Joker was sitting in his chair, his face tight with worry. Kaidan approached like a cat, hoping Joker would turn and say something like _Hey, weren’t we just in London? Didn’t I just pick you out the rubble?_

_Didn’t you just leave her there?_

“So Nihlus bit the bullet, yeah?” Joker asked.

“Yeah,” Kaidan said slowly. His heart was thumping in his throat.

  


The _Normandy_ was real. If everyone else was feigning amnesia, they were doing it spectacularly well. As he always did in times of crisis, Kaidan found himself orbiting back to Shepard, and taking up a position in the medbay while Chakwas observed the read-outs.

On her cot in the medbay, Shepard was pale, and bruised, but when wasn’t she these days? Future days? Kaidan could only watch her, and wish she would open her eyes and grin at him, share this secret too.

Chakwas eyed him sharply. “How are you feeling, Alenko?” 

“I’m not sure,” Kaidan admitted.

Chakwas studied him for a moment longer. “Do you feel a migraine coming on?”

On the cot, Shepard wrinkled her nose in classic disgust of the concept of waking up, and Kaidan stood. “I think she’s waking up,” he said, nearly standing on tip toes to crane over her.

Immediately, Chakwas returned to her patient and waited with her inscrutable smile for Shepard to unwillingly open her eyes. “You had us worried there, Shepard. How are you feeling?”

“Like the morning after shore leave.” Shepard sat up and winced. “How long was I out?”

“About fifteen hours. Something happened down there with the beacon, I think.”

Kaidan couldn’t help himself from staring at her, words tripping from his tongue. “It’s my fault. I must have triggered some kind of security field when I approached it. You had to push me out of the way.”

Shepard gave him a reassuring smile. “You had no way to know what would happen.”

He drew breath to argue, to say _I did, and so did you. We both knew. You have to know, don’t you? Please God tell me you know too_. But Shepard’s gaze turned to the incoming Anderson, and she barely gave Kaidan another moment’s thought.

It was Kaidan, and only Kaidan, who knew what the next three years would bring.

  


Kaidan found himself standing in the middle of mess, his breathing coming in short, deep gasps.

Was this the action of the crucible? Did it have enough power to send him tumbling through time?

If it was, then surely his purpose was to stop the Reapers from getting as far as they had. Even it wasn’t, it was what he had to do. How was he to achieve such a feat?

He imagined calling Shepard, Anderson and Hackett together to tell them everything that would happen in the next three years. Even before he’d finished explaining the Reapers they’d have him committed. He would need to wait for them to come to understand Reapers themselves. They would need to see evidence of the Reapers first, which would not happen until . . . until they met Sovereign on Virmire. The thought chilled his skin.

Even then, how to prove it? He could rhyme off any number of facts about Anderson or Hackett, but nothing that an industrious researcher wouldn’t have been able to prove. He could tell Shepard any number of details about her life, things she had told very few people, but they would hardly make him seem trustworthy. He wished he could remember a birthmark or a hidden scar that he could prove knowledge of, but that had been one body ago, and how on earth could he explain _that_? He could tell her that the second and third ribs beneath her right breast were ticklish, and that he could extract a variety of screams from her by application of his fingers there, but that also seemed somewhat untrustworthy without the proper context.

Commander Shepard, I have come from the future to warn you about the Reapers, which are going to dog your every step for the next three years and make our lives a living hell. Proof? Well I can tell you: you drink eye-wateringly strong asari tea, you have terrible taste in books and musicals, and some of the people you are about to meet will be the closest friends you’ve ever had. Also, you and I embark on a highly inappropriate relationship that is both the best and the worst thing that ever happened to me. Maybe I can . . .

. . . Stop you from dying that one time.

Kaidan could feel the quivering in his fingers. When had he last eaten? All the years he’d scolded Shepard for running on empty, and here he was with the fatigue-shakes of overworked biotics.

“Hey?” came a voice from behind him. Shepard had crept up on her catspaw feet, or perhaps he’d simply been too lost in thought. The look she gave him was strange, her face depicted concern like she wore a mask. He found himself gazing down into blue eyes, and a woman who didn’t think of him as anything but a subordinate. For the first time in . . . well, three years . . . he felt he could look upon her without fear of her eyes crinkling at the corners, and the tip of her tongue brushing her lips, which always brought him down to meet her with a kiss. She didn’t yet know she had that power over him, or at least she hadn’t yet decided he was worth her time.

“Alenko?” she prompted, arching one eyebrow.

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head a little. “It’s good to see you up and about, Shepard.”

Her bright smile showed just a little of her startlement. She rocked back on her heels and took in her surroundings in a quick dart of her eyes. “How are you holding up?” she asked, all the warmth of her compassion creeping into her tone, “Things were pretty rough down there.”

“I’m okay. You?”

She blinked, cocking her head to the side as she gave him another one of her looks, the one that said she was trying to puzzle him out. “My head’s still a little sore,” she admitted. “I’m sorry about Jenkins. Did you know him long?”

“Jenkins . . . yeah. He was a good kid,” Kaidan found himself unable to picture the man’s face. “It’s hard to lose a soldier under your command. You did all you could.”

A moment of irritation flickered over Shepard’s features before being carefully smoothed away by her politico smile. “I should get to the CIC, I’m glad you’re doing okay,” she said, and extracted herself from the conversation as neatly as one of her pulls could lift a cup from a table.

That wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Kaidan found himself watching her leave, feeling sure that last time around the conversation had gone differently.

He could affect this present.

With his hands shaking, he headed for food.

  


Shepard wrote her report in CIC, her head bowed over a console as they journeyed toward the Citadel. Kaidan kept her in his eyeline, lingering near the doors. He needed proof that he knew facts before they happened, without being seen as crazy. The answer was clear. He could send himself data packets, bouncing them off of Sol’s relay to provide an impossible-to-forge time signature as they were logged through the Mass Effect relay. If they were encrypted with his public key, he wouldn’t need to worry about revealing sensitive data. He would only decrypt them when it came time to come clean.

He could remember the broad strokes, and many of the details, but the order was a little confused. They would first hit the Citadel, recruit Tali, Garrus and Wrex. Their best lead for Saren would be Therum where they would find Liara. For all he knew, Liara had already triggered the damned forcefield they would pull her from. He remembered days of hunting, and ending up on Feros with the damned Thorian that still occasionally haunted his dreams. He remembered Shepard sitting in the _Normandy’s_ mess with him late at night, her legs crossed beneath her and a mug cradled in her hand. “We need to go after Benezia,” she’d said quietly. He’d nodded.

And of course . . . Virmire.

Ash was sitting in the mess _now_ , looking lost and alone. He had to affect this present. Maybe he could save her. Save Ash . . . save Shepard? Was it even possible?

His omnitool buzzed and he checked it reflexively, the message’s sender catching his attention immediately. He broke away from the CIC, jogging a few steps down the corridor and demanding a priority line to Thandie Alenko. “ _Mom_!” he cried the moment the screen resolved into an image of his mother.

“Kaidan, darling, is everything okay?”

His knees wobbled and he leaned back against the bulkhead, closing his eyes for a moment. He quickly opened them again, drinking in the sight of his mother’s face. “It’s going to sound weird but . . . I thought I’d never see you again. It’s so good to see you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My new year's resolution was to write more, even if I felt I was writing poop, so I hope this is not poop, and I hope to update soon . . .


	3. Ripples

It had been three years since Kaidan had seen a Citadel not scarred by war.

After rescuing Tali from a dark alleyway, and Tali none the worse for wear, Shepard told Kaidan to go file a report with her prettiest and most insincere smile. Kaidan had only ever learned one effective method of arguing with Shepard and that was most certainly not currently available, so he acquiesced with equal politeness. It was no bother at all to retreat to the _Normandy_ , change to civvies, and easily slip the Alliance’s loose virtual trackers. He disappeared into the Presidium within the hour, safely away from any old friends. 

The Presidium felt strange, almost foreign. What was the old saying? The past is another country? He lingered at the Presidium’s fountain. The damned thing still grated on his teeth. He stared at it, wondering if he might reach out and trigger it somehow. He could launch himself to Ilos and . . . what? With no real plan, he retreated from the burbling water. There was a weight pressing in on his temples, as though the Presidium’s fountain was following him through the green spaces. He took a pause on one of the low benches, and stared at the embassies that stretched above him. The Council had never been particularly helpful, even when they had had the evidence of missing colonies and Reaper limbs lying on the front lawn. No, they were not the ones to approach. Udina . . well at the very least he could start a file on that rat bastard. He pondered the Shadow Broker, even got to his feet to head in that direction, before he remembered standing in the Shadow Broker’s office with Shepard, Shepard playing a variant of her Alliance Hero routine he liked to call the innocent farm hand to throw the Broker’s agent off guard. Had that been this visit to the Citadel, or one of their others? It felt as though it had been early. But then again . . .

Then again, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t quite as financially literate in 2183 as he was in 2186, and hadn’t the benefit of Shepard’s connections. The Broker would never see him.

The pressure was turning treacherous. The beginnings of a migraine pushed in at his senses. Heading it off was going to be a tall order, but he might be able to delay it a little. A quick scan of the extranet located an old dealer – or would it be more accurate to say a _present_ dealer - for triptan-lites that he sourced in the wards. Over a greasy bowl of noodles, he considered his priorities. What was going to happen, what had to happen. What did he have to stop from happening? He began to make notes, and found an order.

Reach Liara as quickly as possible.

Get to Benezia before she succumbs.

Stop Saren on Virmire.

Keep Ash alive.

Keep Shepard alive.

Stop the Reapers.

Each stage felt like an incremental jump. How did he climb from Therum to stopping the Reapers? How had they managed it before? Even with Shepard, the Hero of Elysium, the Saviour of the Citadel – _Queen of My Heart, he’d teased as they’d been curled up in bed, listening to the news. She’d squealed and kicked at him under the covers_ – they had barely made it through London. Tried to fire the Crucible . . .

Or had they done it? He blinked at his growing blindspot. Had Shepard made it after all?

Was this intentional?

Working as intended.

Not a bug, but a feature.

His head was entering a vicelike grip. He couldn’t do this without her. He couldn’t even imagine what he had to do. If she had sent him here, some choice, she had chosen poorly. He needed her. Once they had Liara, once they reached Feros, he would tell Shepard everything. He’d send a timestamped data packet so she’d see he knew what was going to happen. Once she allowed the cipher to touch her mind, she’d be ready. He remembered how pale she’d been after that hellish planet. How she quivered with exhaustion and hunger, sitting beside him in the mess and fumbling with eezo-stamped rations. The moment they reached that damned planet, he’d take her aside and whisper, _I know this sounds crazy, but_ . . .

The pain was reaching its crescendo, a timpani drum that with every heartbeat drummed a nail further into his skull. He left the restaurant and stumbled back to the docks. He was only vaguely aware of the next ten hours, of the chatter around the _Normandy_ , and Shepard’s voice over the intercom, soft and strong.

Once, she’d sat with him on her bed in the loft of the SR-2. She had sat still, reading her reports and sipping her tea, while he had lain with his head her in a lap and a sleepmask over his eyes. She had been so unnaturally still that when it passed, he had whispered a hoarse ‘thank you’ into her thigh, and she had tangled her fingers in his hair. _It’s what I’m here for_ , she’d murmured.

The post migraine sensation was like the lowest point of a hangover, where he was stumbling and shaky and a little too thick of tongue and finger. With Chakwas’ stern nod, he headed for the mess and ate a tasteless meal before sleeping it off in those uncomfortable pods. His dreams were formless and dark, but always something chasing him, getting closer with every heartbeat.

When the pod opened, he at least felt more human. He blinked in the hazy light, and took a quick scan of the pods. Shepard had happily taken Anderson’s bed last time, delighted to have any alternative to the sleep pods. Sure enough, she was not one of the occupants. But he did spot Ashley in one of the far pods, her face relaxed in sleep. He had barely made it two steps into the mess before he saw Garrus standing over the ration dispensary, looking a little lost and bereft.

“Hey,” Kaidan said, approaching with a little wave. “Have you had an orientation yet? Know where the dextro rations are?”

The turian flicked his mandibles and looked Kaidan up and down with the kind of tin-headed neutrality that made turians look like apex predators. “I’m sorry, Garrus Vakarian,” he said, sticking his hand out.

“Oh. Sorry, I know,” Kaidan felt his mental gears churning. Of course. He hadn’t met Garrus. Or Garrus hadn’t met him.

“And you are?” the turian sounded slightly amused.

“Kaidan Alenko. I was on Eden Prime with Shepard.”

Garrus nodded. “Commander Shepard invited me on board.” He stood, ram-rod straight, and his face seemed youthful absent his youthful scar.

“She must think you can help,” Kaidan said. He turned back to the ration dispenser. “The _Normandy’s_ a small ship, so the mess is on the smaller side. Don’t take this as the pride of the Alliance.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Garrus retrieved his rations and watched as Kaidan gave him tips on the reheater. While Garrus nuked his own rations, Kaidan searched for an appropriate breakfast, and then added a second pack of dehydrated eggs for good measure. While Garrus fussed with his ration, Kaidan ripped the packets open, depositing them on a tray. “Thanks for the assist,” Garrus, said, as he retrieved his tray from the reheater and piled his last pack atop.

“No problem. Want to keep me company over breakfast?”

Garrus agreed, and headed off to stake out a chair while Kaidan finished his meal prep. Kaidan regarded the eggs, toast, and bacon with suspicion. A little hot sauce on the eggs wouldn’t hurt, but the food still looked greyer than the tray it was served on. He poured a healthy mug of coffee and creamer, and joined Garrus at the mess table.

“So,” Kaidan ventured, trying not to look at how his eggs resisted the prongs of his fork, “Where’s home?”

Garrus smeared some yellow paste on what looked to Kaidan like a red-coloured water biscuit. “At the moment, it’s here. I was C-Sec, but not anymore.”

Not for nothing had Kaidan been following humanity’s charming Spectre for the last three years. He prompted a little more, and a little more, until Garrus was happily chatting about his best C-Sec stories and their conversation had even attracted Draven and Crosby, who were lured in by Garrus’ easy laugh. Feeling he’d done his job, Kaidan excused himself with his last slice of toast. He refilled his coffee and headed up to CIC, licking the remnants of butter from his fingers. He rounded the corner to find Shepard stooped over the galaxy map, her arms crossed and resting on the rail, her lips pursed in thought. As soon as he registered her standing there, her head snapped up and her gaze landed on him. She stood straighter, bracing her arms against the rail as though she was preparing herself for something, and then released it, beckoning him down into the conference room.

“How are you doing, Alenko, Chakwas said you were sick?”

“A migraine, uh, ma’am. Nothing serious. I get them from time to time.”

Shepard nodded. “Let me know if you need anything,” she said, leaning back against a chair. Without waiting for his response, she took a deep breath and plunged on. “I want to update you on the crew. We’ve added a few new faces to the roster. We have a former C-Sec officer, Garrus Vakarian, and a bounty hunter . . . Wrex.” She was watching him closely, as though she expected him to kick off.

“I met Garrus in the mess, actually. He seems a good kid.”

At last he earned one of her smiles. She nodded. “Yeah, he’s been very helpful. Although, Lieutenant, I don’t think he can be more than a few years younger than you!”

A laugh escaped Kaidan in a sharp exhalation, and Shepard grinned in startlement. With a grimace, he apologised, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. Post-migraine punch-drunk, I’m not making much sense.”

Shepard was smiling hard now, and she licked her lips to stifle a chuckle. “Seriously, any triggers I need to be aware of?”

“Thanks, but no, I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.” There was a quirk to Shepard’s lips that felt more familiar than anything else on Shepard’s ship. It loosened the iron band around his chest, and he fancied he could breathe a little better. “More importantly, how are you? Humanity’s first Spectre, eh?”

She rolled her eyes and ducked her gaze before looking back at him. “It’s _something_ from the Council, at least.” She sighed, looking past his shoulder toward the door. "Though they're burying their heads in the sand enough." 

“Human nature?” he offered, and she acknowledged with a wistful wrinkle of his nose. This was tickling a memory, and he wished he could pull the right words out. “For what it’s worth, I think they made a good choice.”

She waved his compliment off, but with good humour. “We’d better get back to it,” she said, taking her weight off the chair. “Review the reports, but feel free to find me if you need a debrief,” she said.

“I might stay in here to do that, if that’s okay,” he said. “Read over some reports in peace.”

“Sure.”

He waited until the door closed behind her before he slumped to a chair. His heart was racing, his pulse pushing against his throat. Just as the laugh had escaped him moments ago, now tears were flowing down his cheeks before he realised he was crying. Another bubble of laughter appeared, and he chuckled, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. Shepard, alive, whole, still uncertain in her new legend, somehow he could only see her standing in the rubble in London, throwing him a desperate look. He could remember her stealing touches with her fingertips brushing over his knuckles in the CIC, all to be repaid in full when they were in private. He was so far from the woman only a few quick strides away.

He opened his omnitool, and began to write. There were only three elements that were important. The Facts. The Timeline. The Personal. He sketched out the timeline briefly, and listed the important facts he knew. Locations, starmaps, specifications of weaponry. He wrote until his coffee cup was long empty and his shoulders ached from standing so rigid, he wrote until Shepard called an alert over the intercom. They were changing course, a diversion. Ground crew were to prepare for action in twelve hours. Rubbing at the nape of his neck, he secured the data packets and sent them. When would he give Shepard his access key? Tell her what she needed to know?

As the Relay pinged back at him to assure him his message was received, he wondered when the right time would be.

**Author's Note:**

> I am sooooo excited. If you like the odd Mass Effect ramble do come tumble with me: https://palim-writes.tumblr.com/


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